


Failure to Launch

by astudyinrose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, John is protective and caring, M/M, Rimming, Sherlock has anxiety about sex, and then there's mind-blowing sex, because these two deserve it, but they work it out in the end, he's just inexperienced, he's not sex repelled or ace, miscommunications abound, orgasm difficulty, scruff!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:52:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7391656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinrose/pseuds/astudyinrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first (and second) time they have sex, Sherlock has a hard time reaching orgasm. John lends a helping hand (or two).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Failure to Launch

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Darcy and Leslie for your edits. As usual, you're both beautiful tropical fish.

 

 

“What do you want, love?” 

Sherlock was completely, totally naked, and John–who was clothed only in his pants–was currently sprawled on top of him, snogging him deeply.

This was the part where one was supposed to lose oneself, wasn’t it? This was the part where he was supposed to give in to sensation, according to everything he had ever heard. But he couldn’t. He was too focused on every single movement, every brush of lips, of fingers; too focused on John’s beating heart. John Watson was on top of him, _finally_ , and Sherlock couldn’t stop _thinking._

John kissed down Sherlock’s throat to his naked torso, which was already flushed.

“I–I don’t…” Sherlock stuttered, unable to finish his sentence because John took the opportunity to tease his nipple with his tongue.

Sherlock let his head fall back, gasping, and John chuckled, continuing to tease the nipple, before moving on to the other one. He kissed down Sherlock’s chest to his stomach, pausing momentarily.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing up at Sherlock, who nodded, but Sherlock’s heart started beating much faster in anticipation of what John was going to do next.

John bent again, mouthing the vee of Sherlock’s hip while smoothing his hands down Sherlock’s thighs. Sherlock felt dizzy, his breaths coming in short bursts.

“Breathe,” John said, looking up at him from right above his cock.

“I–I can’t...” Sherlock threw an arm over his eyes.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock shook his head, arm still covering his face. He felt mortified, and he didn’t want John to see his expression.

“Hey,” John moved up the bed so that he was lying next to him, plopping down. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock didn’t move or speak, and John sighed. “Sherlock, I want to talk to you like adults, if we can manage it. Can you please look at me?”

Mostly because he couldn’t think of an alternative other than running out the door, (which could mean that John might never talk to him again), Sherlock moved his arm from his eyes.

“Thank you.” John reached down to cup Sherlock’s face with one hand. “What’s wrong? Did you want me to do something differently–”

“I’m s-sorry,” Sherlock interrupted. It came out sounding half-choked.

John made the face he always did when he was confused, tucking in his chin and tilting his head at the same time. “What the hell are you _sorry_ for?”

“I’m not good at this.” Sherlock couldn’t stand to meet John’s eyes, so instead he looked up at the ceiling.

“You seemed to be pretty good at it last night,” John said, cracking a smile. “In fact, I seem to remember us both coming in our pants, not all the way in the door. I haven’t done that since I was a teenager.”

Sherlock bit his lower lip. The night before, John had come up the stairs, announcing that he’d left Mary for good. He’d looked at Sherlock with such hunger that before he’d had time to think, Sherlock had pinned him to the wall, kissing him until they were both hard. Sherlock had ground his hips into John’s until John had come, which was one of the most amazing things Sherlock had ever seen. They’d collapsed into bed together, and in the morning John had woken him up with a kiss, peeling his clothes off one by one.

A wonderful turn of events, which, now, Sherlock had ruined. Sherlock gulped, turning his face away.

“Sherlock?” John reached over and started massaging Sherlock’s head with one hand. It was soothing, but it didn’t completely calm the anxiety that was fluttering through Sherlock’s chest.

“I… didn’t.”

John stiffened. “You didn’t come last night?”

Sherlock shook his head, his face going hot. He hadn’t actually planned on telling John about that.

“Oh.”

For a few long moments, neither of them spoke, and Sherlock could practically hear the wheels turning as John considered that revelation. Sherlock was sure that at any moment John was going to leave the room–leave _him_ , this time for good.

Instead, he spoke again, his hand still in Sherlock’s hair. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to.” 

Sherlock forced himself to turn and look at him. 

Once their gazes met, John took a long breath. “Do you… do you want to have sex? Because we don’t have to. You were so enthusiastic… I mean, you were the one who kissed me first… and then… I mean. I just thought. I thought you wanted to, but some people don’t like having sex. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.” 

“I do,” Sherlock said quickly. “With you. I _really_ do.”

“Okay.” John paused, licking his bottom lip quickly. “Do you… did you enjoy it, though? The kissing and… everything?”

Sherlock snorted. “Did it seem like I didn’t enjoy myself?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you didn’t come?”

Sherlock tried not to roll his eyes again, but didn’t quite manage it. “Obviously.”

John paused for a moment, swallowing deeply.“What about with, um. Other men?”

Sherlock grimaced. “Before you, there were only two others. Both times, when they were done, it was over. And they didn’t care about… you know.” He made a gesture with his hand.

John’s hand stilled in Sherlock’s hair. “Making you come?” John finished for him, his voice very quiet. “Are you saying you’ve never had an orgasm with another person?”

Sherlock couldn’t help it, he turned over to look at John, who was looking at the wall with a blank expression on his face.

Sherlock frowned. “Is that a problem?”

John blinked at him, his gaze refocusing on Sherlock’s face. “No, no, it’s okay. I mean, christ.” John scrubbed his hand over his face again.“I can’t believe neither of them even _tried_.”

Sherlock flinched again. “Well. There was... really only one,” he said quietly.

John dropped his hand to the comforter. “One?” His voice had reached a higher decibel than it ever had before.

Sherlock averted his gaze, suddenly feeling too naked to be having this conversation. He took the tangled top sheet and pulled it around his body.

“One person, one time. Hands. In the chemical lab. Friend from uni. Never wanted to after, or since. Until now. Until you.” Sherlock said it all in a clinical, clipped tone.

“Okay.” John ran his hand through his hair, as if he was thinking. “Can I ask you something else?”

Sherlock couldn’t meet his eyes. “Go ahead.”

“When you’re alone. Do you, um, touch yourself?”

Sherlock felt himself flush even more deeply, but the fact that John hadn’t left him yet gave him courage. He nodded again.

“Okay,” John nodded. “And when you… do you, um.” John shook his head, laughing. “For god’s sake, I’m a bloody doctor, this shouldn’t be hard to ask about.”

“Do I ejaculate when I masturbate? Yes, John, I do,” Sherlock snapped, and it came out sounding waspish.

“Okay, okay, just checking. So it’s not an anatomical problem, then.”

“Thank you for your medical diagnosis. Now you know everything. You can leave.”

John looked completely shocked. “Leave?”

The anxious feeling in Sherlock’s chest tightened. “Now that you know how limited my sexual experience is, and given your high sex drive, I’m sure that you realize I can’t be a fulfilling partner to you.”

For a long, unbearable moment, John simply looked stunned. But after an interminable several seconds, his face morphed into a softer, less defined emotion, one that was still a little hard for Sherlock to place. John reached out and took his hand, so gently that Sherlock felt his heart was going to burst.

“Sherlock, listen to me. Are you listening?”

Sherlock nodded curtly.

John blew air out in one long breath. “I’m not good at this stuff, but… I’m going to try.” He cleared his throat. Sherlock felt hope starting to fight against the anxiety, just a little. 

John watched him for a moment before he went on. “It doesn’t matter to me whatsoever how much experience you’ve had. The reason I was asking all of these questions was because I want to make sure that you want to do this, and that it’s not physically or emotionally painful for you. I… I have wanted to do this–be with you–for _so_ long. I’ll stop whenever and if you want me to, but… I want to make you feel good, Sherlock. We can figure this out together. And if you decide you don’t want to have sex at all, we don’t have to. We can take this slowly. Is that alright with you?”

Sherlock felt tears stinging his eyes, and he nodded one more time.

“Hey, hey,” John pulled him closer so that Sherlock was nestled into his neck, and Sherlock wrapped himself around John completely. For a while, they just lay there, holding each other, and Sherlock listened to John’s heart beating in his chest.

“Thank you,” Sherlock said, and he meant it in so many different ways that he couldn’t actually articulate them all if John had asked.

John didn’t reply, simply leaning down to kiss Sherlock’s forehead.

 

* * *

It wasn’t until two days later that they tried again, mostly because they were called in to solve a murder of a priest who was involved in an underground prostitution ring, and they were up for a full day and a half. When they finally got home, they had both showered and collapsed into bed–Sherlock’s bed, by some unspoken agreement, which was fine with Sherlock.

Sherlock woke the next morning with the sound of rain against the windows. He lay there, watching the drops streak down for a few minutes, while he held a pillow close to him. It still smelled like John, which was proof that John had been in his bed. Not only that, but John wasn’t going anywhere, and John wanted to be with him. For all intents and purposes, he had never really had sex before, but John was alright with that. Sherlock contemplated these things for a few more minutes, and several things clicked into place all at once. He had to tell John, immediately, because John had to come back to bed.

He got up, pulling on his blue silk robe and marching into the sitting room.

John was sitting in his chair, reading the paper, a cup of hot tea steaming next to him. When he saw Sherlock, his eyes immediately lit up a little and the corners of his mouth turned upward.

“I can’t stop thinking,” Sherlock announced.

“Um,” John said slowly, his brow creasing. “Okay. Why don’t you do an experiment or something?”

Sherlock blinked at him, and blinked again. “What?”

“If you can’t sleep,” John said, as if he was slow. “Or I could look in the emails to see if there’s another case, but honestly after that last one, I’m knackered. I could use a day or so to recuperate.”

Sherlock blinked at him again. “Not _sleep_ , John. For god’s sake, please try to keep up.”

John slapped his paper to the ground, crossing his arms and looking up at him with amusement and a bit of irritation. “Enlighten me then, genius.”

“Sex. We were just talking about this. Why I can’t lose myself in the moment and...“ he gestured in front of him, hoping that his point is implicit.

John frowned. “We were just… you mean, _two days_ ago?”

“Obviously.”

John pinched his eyes with one hand, and for a long moment neither of them spoke.

“John.” Sherlock was anxious to get John into bed, and this was all just wasted time.

John dropped his hand, but his face was jovial, not angry. “You just… you have to catch me up sometimes, you know? Your brain skips steps and you expect me to know all of them.”

Sherlock pursed his lips, considering this. “I’ve never done that before with you.”

John tilted his head to the side. “No, but we weren’t having sex before. This is different.”

Sherlock bit back a retort, because John was always less likely to do what he wanted if he let verbal barbs loose. John simply watched him, arms crossed, not saying anything.

Sherlock sighed, looking up at the ceiling, tapping his foot. “John, remember the conversation we had the other day about why I can’t orgasm easily?”

Looking smug, John nodded.

“I think it’s because I can’t turn my brain off.”

“Ah.”John scratched the two-day stubble under his jaw which was… distracting. “And you want me to try and get your brain to turn off so you can enjoy sex?”

“Yes,” Sherlock snapped, exasperated. “Now, let’s go to the bedroom.”

John’s eyebrows shot up. “Now?”

“Yes, John, _now_. What part of that word is confusing?”

“A bloody Casanova, this one,” John chuckled, standing up.

Sherlock frowned. “Was that… not good?”

John sighed, but he still looked amused. “It’s really nothing I didn’t expect from you but… for one thing, ordering me into the bedroom isn’t going to get either of us in the mood. It’s not like a transaction, you know.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” John said, his lips curling upward again.

“How should I… initiate sex, then? If not verbally?”

John full-on laughed this time, his head ducking and his shoulders shaking with mirth.

“John,” Sherlock whined. He was actually _whining_ now, like a ten-year-old. “I’m serious.”

John grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. “Sorry, it’s just. I’ve never had to give lessons on initiating sex before,” John said, eyes dancing.

Sherlock tried to pull his hand away. “If you don’t want–”

“Oh come off it,” John said, taking his hand again, and stepping closer. “I love that I’m the one to teach all of this to you. I thought our ‘first’ time was just, well, sloppy, because we had both been wanting each other for so long. At least, that’s how it was for me. I wanted everything, all of you, so much that I couldn’t stop myself long enough to even take off our clothes. But now we have all the time in the world. Like I said before, we can do this slowly. Everything you have told me so far has been good news.” John stepped closer again, into his space, and brushed his lips under Sherlock’s jaw. Sherlock shivered involuntarily.

“Really?” he managed to ask.

“Mmm,” John hummed. “You want to have sex with me, and you can orgasm alone. You just don’t know what you like.” He brushed kisses up Sherlock’s jawline. “... _yet_ ,” he added, licking over Sherlock’s pulse point, which caused a frisson to run down Sherlock’s body.

Sherlock’s eyes fell closed, and his legs felt like gelatin already.

“So... you want me to seduce you, Sherlock Holmes?” John asked, whispering directly in his ear.

“God, yes,” Sherlock said, his voice so low that he could barely hear it.

“Do you trust me?” John’s fingers trailed down over his stomach.

“I-implicitly,” Sherlock said, his breaths coming shorter, more quickly.

John chuckled. “Good,” he said, fingers brushing over Sherlock’s still-clothed cock, which was starting to show some interest.

John slowly caressed the skin of Sherlock’s neck with his lips, up to where his jawline met his ear, and then he nipped lightly at the skin, still palming Sherlock’s cock through his robe and pants. Then he turned to snog Sherlock full-on, his tongue teasing Sherlock’s mouth open slowly, tantalizingly. Sherlock’s eyes were still closed, but he lifted one hand up to reach around John’s neck, more for stability than anything else.

“John,” Sherlock moaned, realizing that he was almost collapsing onto John at this point, hardly holding himself up. Not for the first time, he thought that despite his small frame, John was remarkably strong.

John growled, pulling him closer, his hands squeezing Sherlock’s arse. Sherlock felt dizzy, his heart was starting to pound in his chest, and John was snogging him as if his life depended on it. His tongue was dipping in and retreating, the he sucked on Sherlock’s lip. It was incredible, how just kissing was making Sherlock feel like he was losing control.

“I think,” John said between kisses, “we should go to the bedroom so I can do this properly.”

Unable to form words, Sherlock just nodded. John smiled, but it wasn’t his normal smile; it was a predatory one, which made Sherlock feel hot all over. John tugged him toward Sherlock’s room one-handed, and Sherlock shuffled after him, feeling extremely uncoordinated.

Once they were in the room, John turned to face him again. He slipped his hand around Sherlock’s neck, pulling his head down to kiss him once, slowly, before standing back a little. Sherlock watched, his heart beating out of his chest, as John trailed his fingers down Sherlock’s stomach to the tie of his robe. John tugged one end of the tie, pushing the robe off Sherlock’s shoulders, so that Sherlock was standing in only his pants.

“God,” John said, trailing his fingers over one of Sherlock’s pectorals. “You have no idea, do you?”

“John.” Sherlock couldn’t seem to find words, any words, to fill an entire sentence because nothing was going through his head anymore other than _John, John, John._

John met his eyes, and for a moment neither of them moved, they were just breathing each other’s air, and then John was pushing him back against the bed. John pulled off his jumper, leaving his vest and jeans. He crawled onto the bed, settling between Sherlock’s thighs, pressing him into the mattress. Sherlock couldn’t find the words to protest that John was still wearing far too many clothes.

“This is much better,” John whispered, before bending to kiss Sherlock again. This time, it wasn’t as fevered, or as vicious of a kiss. He kissed Sherlock slowly, his tongue dipping in a rhythm that felt like sex–at least, how Sherlock imagined sex would feel. His barely-there beard was scratching Sherlock’s face, but Sherlock loved it, he wanted _more,_ he wanted John to mark him up as much as possible.

 _So this was what it’s like to be seduced by John Watson_ , he thought. How had he gone his entire life without knowing what it was like?

“Your brain isn’t off yet.” John leaned back to look at him.

“I, um.” Sherlock panted.

“We’ll fix that,” John said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he carded a hand through Sherlock’s hair.“Are you still okay?”

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Sherlock said impatiently.

“Just checking,” John said, kissing down Sherlock’s neck again, and starting to suck over Sherlock’s pulse point, _hard_.

“Ahhh,” Sherlock moaned, arching up into John.

John just hummed, sucking harder, cupping his hips upward at the same time so that his clothed cock rubbed directly against Sherlock’s. Sherlock’s cock was already unbelievably hard, and feeling John’s arousal against his own, even through several layers of clothing, was overwhelming.

This went on for what felt like an age, John rubbing their cocks together and nipping and sucking along Sherlock’s neck. It was torturous pleasure, and Sherlock was getting dizzy again.

“Relax,” John said into his ear. “We have all day. Breathe.”

Sherlock realized he had his hands fisted in the back of John’s vest, and he was making little half-hiccuping noises. Taking a deep breath, he made himself loosen his grip a little.

“A-all day?” He tried to say it in a dubious tone, but didn’t quite manage it.

John just grinned, and the smile lit up his entire face, his entire being. Sherlock wanted to file that smile in his mind palace and remember it forever, because he had never seen John Watson smile like that.

But then John was moving off of him. Sherlock almost protested, but a stern look from John and he clicked his jaw shut again. He stopped when his head was level with Sherlock’s pants, which were straining to restrain his cock. “Okay, where were we the other day?”

John smoothed his hands up Sherlock’s legs as he bent down to kiss and bite along the inside of Sherlock’s inner thigh, working upward toward his groin. When he had almost reached it, he moved to the other side, repeating the same torturous process.

Then, when Sherlock was sure he was going to combust if John didn’t actually touch his cock, John licked the pants directly over it. Sherlock swore, his hands now fisting into the sheets at his sides.

“John,” Sherlock gasped again. “I–I need…”

“Shh,” John said, smoothing his hands up Sherlock’s thighs again. “We are doing this my way, remember? You’re still alright aren’t you?”

Sherlock nodded, knowing why John was asking him that question over and over, but feeling exasperated by it all the same.

“Okay,” John said, “Close your eyes for me.”

Sherlock must have looked like he was going to protest, but all John had to do was raise his eyebrows, and he acquiesced.

He felt John peel the waistband of his pants down, just enough that he could free his cock, which was a huge relief. For a moment, nothing else happened, and Sherlock squirmed a little, and then John blew directly on the tip. Sherlock moaned, and when John enveloped the head with his mouth, he arched upward, just a bit, but John held him down with his forearm over his hips. He slid all the way down once, twice, before finding a faster rhythm.

Sherlock swallowed hard, trying to keep his eyes shut, but he couldn’t help but peek. He looked down to see John bobbing up and down on his cock with relish, which had to be one of the most fantastic things he had ever seen.

Sherlock arched again, moaning, trying to stay still but unable to manage it. At the same time, his brain was spinning, unable to process everything. He was with John, they were so much more than they had been before... but they still hadn’t talked about what they were, what they would be. What did John want? Did he just want to have sex? Did he want… everything else? Sherlock could almost feel his body fighting to get to orgasm, but at the same time, his brain didn’t want to shut off.

He opened his eyes again, and John was bottoming out on Sherlock’s cock, pulling and twisting with one hand at the base, his blue eyes searing into Sherlock’s gaze. But Sherlock still couldn’t let go.

Apparently, John could see it in his eyes, because he pulled off. 

“I’m sorry.” Sherlock choked out.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” John said, “I want to try something else now anyway.”

John started taking off his vest and jeans, so Sherlock could finally see his body.

“Turn over,” John ordered. “Hands and knees.” Sherlock did as he was told immediately. 

John pulled Sherlock’s pants off the rest of the way. “Finally,” he said, kneading Sherlock’s arse with both hands.

“What?” Sherlock looked over his shoulder.

“Your arse is marvelous. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” John said. He spread Sherlock’s arse cheeks wide and licked all the way up his perineum and over his hole. Sherlock cried out, his head hanging down and his hips chanting backwards.

John made a noise of satisfaction, repeating the motion. Sherlock was sure he was making some strange noises, but he wasn’t about to tell John to stop.

John wriggled his tongue into Sherlock’s hole, and smoothed a hand up Sherlock’s back at the same time. His tongue breached the muscle, massaging it for a bit until it was looser, and then he started to push inward. Sherlock gasped, and his cock was throbbing.

John pulled back for a moment. “God, you have no idea what this is doing to me,” he groaned, then bent to his work again. Sherlock made a noise between a whine and a moan, and one of John’s hands reached down to stroke Sherlock’s cock at the same time.

Sherlock nearly collapsed, torn between bucking into John’s mouth and thrusting into his hand. He was overwhelmed by sensation, his entire body was shaking, he was crying out into the pillow.

This went on for a lifetime, but Sherlock still didn’t come.

Then John’s tongue was gone, his hand was gone, and John’s cock was sliding in between Sherlock’s legs, his torso on Sherlock’s back.

“Okay?” John panted into his ear.

“God, yes,” Sherlock said, looking down to see John’s cock between his legs. It was unbelievably hot, and dirty in a way.

“Squeeze your thighs together,” John gasped, starting to thrust forward. He was kissing Sherlock’s shoulders and neck all the while, his scruffy beard surely leaving marks on Sherlock’s body.

He watched as the John’s cock slid against between his legs, over and over, and John’s body was pressing him downward. John was biting his shoulder blade, twisting and pulling Sherlock’s cock at the same time with one hand.

Sherlock was unbelievably overwhelmed with sensation, but he still couldn’t seem to come.

“John, I’m sorry, I… I can’t,” Sherlock panted, his eyes leaking, his whole body shaking.

Without a word, John flipped him over, and settled between his legs again. He grasped their cocks together, thrusting upward, but this time… _this time_... they were eye to eye.

And then, John smiled again, and Sherlock was gasping and arching into every single thrust. He wasn’t thinking about anything other than that look in John’s eyes, the desire, the…

It took him a moment to realize that John was speaking again. “Sherlock, I want… I want you,” John panted. “I want this, please, I want you to come, give it to me love.”

 _Love._ John had said the word love. He hadn’t imagined it, had he?

“Kiss me,” Sherlock managed to choke out. “ _Please_.”

John did, kissing him hard and deep, thrusting upward over and over and over.

 _I want you._ Sherlock felt overwhelmed by it. _Love_. John wanted him, John was here, John was his, John was over him and under him in every way. It was enough, because it was _John_.

 _Oh god,_ Sherlock thought. Love. He loved John. He loved John so much that his whole body was screaming with it, his mind, his very being. Everything in him loved John.

John was looking at him with a kind of awe, an awe Sherlock felt reflected in himself… and his mind finally let go, his body finally gave in, and he came. 

He was vaguely aware that John was rubbing against his hip until he came too, a couple of minutes later, shouting Sherlock’s name, and then he was in a daze as John cleaned him up.

John walked back into the room, having disposed of the towel, and stood by the bed, carding his hand through Sherlock’s hair.

“How are you doing?” John asked, his eyes searching Sherlock’s face in his doctorly way.

“Please don’t leave me,” Sherlock blurted out. “Please, John.”

John’s hand stilled, and he looked shocked for a moment.

“Sherlock,” he said slowly.

“I…” Sherlock turned his head into the pillow, unable to look at him anymore. He felt completely raw, vulnerable, in a way he’d never felt before, and he _hated_ it.

“Sherlock, look at me,” John said sternly.

Sherlock slowly turned his head back to look at John, who sat on the side of the bed, and held Sherlock’s face with both hands.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

Sherlock nodded, his heart pounding.

John swallowed deeply, gathering himself before he spoke. “I’m not… I’m not leaving again, Sherlock, not unless you want me to. I was a total and complete idiot, for so long, I know, but… you’re it for me, don’t you see? I was about to tell you that first night when you pushed me against the wall and snogged me, so I never got the chance, but… you’re _it._ You’re all I want. I thought that was completely obvious.”

Sherlock felt his mouth open and close a few times, because his brain was having trouble processing this information.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Sherlock felt his eyes pricking, and John leaned down to kiss him again, deeply.

Sherlock tugged his arm, eventually. “Come back to bed.”

Smiling again–had John ever smiled this much?–John climbed over him and spooned up behind him, hugging him closely.

“You’re it for me too,” Sherlock said, realizing he hadn’t actually said the words aloud.

John kissed the back of his neck, and Sherlock could feel the smile against his skin. “Good.”


End file.
